Choices
by CupCakeyyy
Summary: Choices lead to decisions. Decisions have consequences. People make those choices, but others simply cannot accept them. (Warning due to graphic description of injuries and torture.)


Another one-shot! This time a very, very long one xD

 _Forum_ : Harry Potter's World, Ravenclaw

 _Charm_ : Impedimenta - equipment for an activity or expedition, especially when considered as bulky or an _encumbrance._

 _Prompt_ : Write about someone who causes a problem for either a class, a group, or themselves.

Enjoy reading :D

* * *

 **Choices**

The sky was dark as the first rain drops hit the window in his room.

On any other day, he would lie on his bed, his head turned towards the side, his eyes following the clouds in the sky. The window would be open, letting a soft breeze enter his bedroom carrying with it the sounds of birds chirping joyfully.

On any other day, he would watch the sky for any signs of a certain white owl carrying a much waited for piece of parchment, fully knowing that what he was doing was unwelcome, forbidden, dangerous.

On any other day, he would count down the hours until his parents would retire, so that he could force a house elf to keep its mouth shut if he wanted to stay in the service of his family for a day longer as he sneaked out of his room, down the multiple corridors that led through the whole mansion, down the grand stair case and out the doors. He would always choose one of the back entrances, the ones that were only used by servants and house elves. The sky was always clear, as if it knew what the young wizard was up to. Thunder would only wake his parents up and would, thus, make it impossible for him to seek after what he truly wanted.

On any other day, his heart would beat calmly in his chest, already used to the secrets and thrill that came with his activities.

On any other day, he would feel as if he still had a chance to stop what was sure to happen. He would still feel as if the whispered words falling from his loved one's lips were the truth; that he could still _choose._

But on this day, he knew that he had never had a choice; not really. Deep down he had always known that this day would come, even though he had done his best to not accept his imminent fate. He had wanted a future. He had wanted a choice. He had wanted a life, but all of this would be taken from him within the next couple of hours, he realised, as he stared into the pitch black night that enveloped everything around him.

He was sitting on the broad window sill. The glass shielded him from the rain outside as thunder made the earth vibrate. No birds were visible tonight; they were hiding and seeking shelter as he wished he could. But he couldn't. Not for the lack of trying, though. A deep sense of helplessness washed through him as he imagined being able to just walk out of this prison he was forced to call a bedroom, through the multiple hallways that led through the whole mansion and out one of the back doors, just as he had done so many times before. Back then he had still been able to escape, even if it had been for a couple of hours each day, week or month. Now, though, he would not dare as to remove his person out of these four walls.

It was the night that he had always feared, the night that he had done his best to prevent, but no matter how hard he had tried, he had failed each time.

Tonight was the night of his initiation.

Lightning cracked through the sky, briefly illuminating the garden underneath. The flowers that usually stood tall and proud were fighting against the pressure of the rain drops that pelted down upon them without mercy.

He felt oddly empty. He had spent so much time thinking about what would happen tonight that he didn't have any energy left to waste, no more tears to spend. He was fully and truly empty, exhausted to a degree he had not thought possible.

Memories of a conversation he had had the week before washed through his mind.

 _"Stay."_

 _The word echoed through his head, bouncing back and forth, gaining in intensity._

 _"Just stay with me. They won't be able to get to you."_

 _His voice was excited, his eyes showed a determination that was endearing. It meant the world to him that he wanted him enough to ask him to abandon everything he had known and to just_ stay.

 _"I can't," he said. He had to fight to keep the tremor out of his voice. He wanted nothing more than listen to him and believe him when he said that everything would be okay, that he would be safe and nobody would be able to get to him, but he had to remain realistic. As tempting as it sounded, he had to shake his head and face the reality._

 _"They will know. You know they will, and they will not stop until they find me. I can't make you go through that. I can't be the reason that destroys your life. I won't be."_

 _"I don't care!" His green eyes glistened dangerously as he grabbed his shoulders and made it impossible for him to move away. "You hear me? I don't care! All I care about is you and if you go through with this, it will destroy you and I will not sit by and watch as you die on the inside."_

 _"Then don't." His voice was barely above a whisper, trembling ever so slightly, but he didn't care. He had to make sure that the one good thing in his life was safe and would stay safe. He wouldn't be able to live with himself otherwise. He tried to keep the tears from falling out of his storm grey eyes, but he couldn't._

 _He watched him with a sad, emerald gaze, already knowing what would come._

 _"Don't," he whispered and gently wiped a crystal tear from his boyfriend's face. "Don't cry. I understand."_

 _"Do you?" A sad laugh escaped his parted lips. "I'm so sorry that I can't be the one that you deserve. I'm so sorry that I'm not strong enough to go against him and choose for myself. You know that I would choose differently. I don't have any control over that but please let me protect you as much as I can. Please."_

 _"Of course, I know you'd choose differently. You're not one of his followers. And I will always be by your side, love. No matter what you say or decide, you won't make me leave you. My life is dangerous as it is, it can't really get any worse."_

 _His light laughter echoed through the small room as the crickets sang outside._

He could still feel that laugh if he closed his eyes and let all the worried thoughts flow out of his head. He had not said it then, but he had admitted to himself as he had returned into the mansion that that night had been the last between the two wizards. He was sure that the other had known and he was thankful that it had not stood between them. They had both needed it as a source of a sense of security and love, giving them strength for what the future had in hand for them.

Light steps echoed through the hallway leading to his room and made him freeze. What seemed like an eternity later, his breath hitched as knuckles knocked against his door, whose handle was immediately being pushed down. In a panicked second, wild storm grey eyes searched for a way he could prevent what was now about to happen. His breathing was shallow and too quickly, his heart beat so strongly as if it wanted to escape the prison of his ribcage. A fleeting moment, he seriously thought about wrenching the window open and jumping out of his third storey room because death would surely be preferred over the alternative.

He had not raised his hand to touch the window, as the door was pushed open and his fate stood in the doorway, successfully blocking all possibly escape routes. _Why_ had he not taken the offer when he had still been able to?! _Stay._ How could one word hold so much power?

"Draco," his mother's voice was calm as her empty eyes focused on her son. "It's time."

Draco gulped, trying to get his breathing to calm down. He wanted to at least have some control, even if everything else was being forced on him. He would not give those people the satisfaction of seeing him fall to pieces.

"Mother," he cursed inwardly as he heard the coarse quality of his usually so smooth voice, betraying the panic he was trying to suppress. "Please. Don't make me do this."

"Love, you know that I can't change it now. The choice has been made and you should do everything to fulfil what's asked of you."

The cautious smile that she gave him did nothing to calm him down. He was thankful, however, that she did not talk about _honour_ or _the Malfoy name_ as he was sure his father would have. His mother knew what he went through and she knew that he was not fully convinced that the Dark Lord's ways were the right ones. Draco had never given her any reason to believe that he thought less about her Lord, as he was sure she would have told his father and that punishment would have been preventable.

Thoughts about being disowned or killed seemed favourable at the moment and those feelings scared the hell out of him. He had never wanted to die. He thought his life a very big deal and nothing to play with. Being a Malfoy had always been a source of pride but being just Draco sounded safer to him now.

His mother waved her hand in a authoritative manner, and he forced himself off the window still and onto his feet. The way the witch held herself, Draco figured that she had made sure to have her wand somewhere from where she could easily and quickly grab it. He didn't fancy being disarmed by his mother and led to the meeting room at wand point, so he decided to not give her a reason to literally force him into his imminent future.

Feeling like a prisoner being led to receive the Dementor's kiss, he held his head high as he walked through the long halls of Malfoy Manor, his mother closely behind him. He ignored the paintings that yelled encouragements and supremacy bullshit that was supposed to make him excited as they passed by. Contrary to his expectations, Narcissa Malfoy did not lead her son into the meeting room that usually served as the main location for initiations but to a rather narrow and hidden staircase that he knew led to the dungeons.

As a little boy, he had once gotten lost in the manor as he had played hide and seek with one of the house elves that were responsible for his education, and had ended up behind the narrow wooden door. He could still feel the cold and clammy stone walls underneath his small fingers as his curiosity had weighed out his parents' warnings. His little feet had carried him into the maze that was the mansion's dungeon.

He had once asked his father why they had cells and a torture chamber down there, and the man had answered with an annoyed, _"Malfoy Manor is older than you can imagine, son, and back then the times were harder and more dangerous than they are now."_ Never having heard the screams of the prisoners, he had believed this answer to mean that his father would never make use of the rooms the dungeons housed.

The blond wizard couldn't help but smirk bitterly as his mother saw him down those clammy stone stairs, showing no reaction to the tortured screams that echoed through the old halls.

Torches bathed the dungeons in an eerie light, making shadows more pronounced and threatening. Cloaked figures framed the hallway as the two Malfoys walked calmly towards a metal door that was guarded by another two cloaked and masked figures.

"Ma'am," the left one said and pulled out his wand to open the door. Draco flinched slightly, but his mother merely nodded and motioned her son to enter the cell.

What awaited him inside nearly had Draco lose what little food he had managed to force down this morning.

A girl, about the same age as Draco himself, lay on the floor. She had bruises and scratches all over her thin body. Her clothes were ripped and covered in blood, her hair matted and in knots. She was trembling and flinching; her sobs jumped back from the cold walls of the small room. Draco could see deep wounds in her forearms and one in the skin of her left shin that was peeking out of a rip in the material of her jeans. Something cream-coloured made a stark contrast to the deep red blood covering her right hand.

His stomach gurgled uncomfortably as his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing. Bone. There was a freaking _bone_ jutting out of her hand! His eyes narrowed in on the big and bloody scratches that were located mostly on her arms. The skin was irritated, the wounds still slightly bleeding. Those bastards had broken her arms until the bones had come out of her freaking body! He felt sick. This couldn't be happening. What monsters would do that? Breaking a human's bones, just to heal them in order to break them again? For what? Just the heck of it? Because they were able to? _Because she was a Muggle?_

Her broken form was surrounded by hooded figures, most of whom had their wands drawn and either pointed at the crying girl or loosely at their sides. The sight before him made him want to reach into his cloak, grab his wand, and curse every single witch and wizard in this room because he was sure that the innocent girl lying at the mercy of the Death Eaters was a Muggle.

But he did not move as he stared into the bloodshot eyes of their victim that were pleading him to help. They were brown. It was a beautiful brown, almost like melted chocolate.

"Ah, Draco," the voice of his father said, and he looked at the hooded figure that stood directly above the defenceless girl. "You're in time. Excellent. Our Lord will be here any minute now. He will not want to miss you joining his ranks."

"Of course not." Draco's voice sounded hollow, lifeless, as he once again glanced at the Muggle on the floor. She had stopped sobbing, but tears still kept streaming down her dirty face.

"I see you've noticed our guest."

Draco kept himself from scoffing at the last second. _Guest. Yeah, right._

"Our Lord has chosen a special task for you, son," Lucius Malfoy said quietly, and kicked the girl in the stomach as she sniffed loudly. "I said hold your filthy mouth, you pathetic creature!"

The girl whimpered and curled into a tight ball, trying to protect her stomach from further harm.

"Our Lord has decided that you will have an extreme honour. The Dark Lord holds a special interest in you as my son, so you will gladly and voluntarily follow his orders, Draco." His eyes twinkled menacingly behind the slits of his mask as he glared at his son and dared him to step one foot out of line.

"Yes, father."

"Very good."

Soft whispers filled the room as the nameless figures moved to the back of the cell, leaving the defenceless girl in the middle of the cold, wet floor. She was still clutching desperately at her aching stomach. Draco schooled his features into a carefully empty expression, but inside he was screaming. He wanted to help her, but he knew he couldn't. Judging by her defeated posture, she knew that he would not be of any help. Quite the contrary in fact. He would be one of her torturers. She knew it and he did as well.

He didn't raise his head to look at his father as the man slowly moved forward. He manoeuvred around the girl, careful as to not step into the puddle of blood that was slowly expanding, and stopped right next to him. The robed man rested one gloved hand on Draco's stiff shoulders, squeezing slightly; not for comfort reasons, but as a warning. The young Malfoy didn't let the older one know that he knew exactly what his father was doing to him. He would not let him have that satisfaction. Call it Slytherin pride or pure survival instinct; both would come out as the same at that moment.

"Any moment now the Dark Lord will arrive," Lucius Malfoy's voice was soft, velvety, almost gentle, as he whispered into his son's ear. "He will welcome his followers, and he will include you in that welcome. Us Malfoys have been on the side of power and influence for generations now, and to now have a Lord as generous and fair as ours is, is truly a blessing. We have no right to be anything but thankful, Draco."

Said young wizard swallowed painfully, trying his best to not shrug off his father's hand. That would have been seen as betrayal, and he feared that that would exactly be the reason why he wanted to do it in the first place. Listening to that sick man talk about how following a madman was the honourable thing Malfoys did, had always done for generations, made him want to lay off that name and refuse to have ever been part of that twisted family.

This wasn't right. They had to see that this was so wrong that nobody who was truly sane could believe this bullshit! But they didn't.

His parents were completely gone; empty shells merely existing for their master's bidding. Draco was sure that his father would not say anything against his _Lord_ if the lunatic wanted to bed Narcissa. He wouldn't _dare_ to say anything that could end up with the Malfoys not being in the Dark Lord's good graces.

Draco took a deep breath to keep from shivering. This was wrong. This was so wrong. What was he thinking just going along with it? He could've been at Harry's side right now if he had just _stayed_.

The heavy hand on his shoulder squeezed painfully as Lucius softly cleared his throat. "You will be asked to give this filth what it deserves," he muttered in a gentle tone, almost caringly, lovingly. He nearly sounded as deranged as his dear auntie Bella. Draco clenched his teeth together. "You will do as our Lord demands. You will then bow down and take on your true destiny."

The young wizard slowly turned his empty eyes onto the cloaked Death Eater next to him. His eyes were shining behind his mask, glistening in a maniacally way.

This insane man wasn't his father. He was nothing but a torturer, a murderer, who had clearly lost his mind along the way. The Dark Lord had cost him his soul, if he knew it or not, and if Draco allowed this to go on, allowed this to be him in a few years, he would never be able to live with himself. That man standing in front of him wasn't human anymore. Hasn't been for many, many years.

A hushed whisper came from the crowd on the other side of the cell, closely followed by a panicked whimper. Lucius' hand slid from Draco's shoulder as the wizard turned, sucked in his breath and fell to his knees. Lucius Malfoy, pureblood, proud wizard, member of a century old family line was grovelling at the feet of a halfblood without a nose.

Draco was disgusted.

A punch in his knee had him bend down himself, catching his fall at the last second before his face would have made contact with the uncomfortably hard floor. He couldn't believe it. Pure instinct and his bloody so-called father had him involuntarily kneel down in front of a monster. A voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Harry yelled at him to stand back up. Doing that would get him killed in an instant. Straightening up and looking the darkest wizard of the last century in the eye, though... That he could do, he thought cheekily, and risked his health and probably head as he raised the latter defiantly and glared at the ugly man in the doorway.

"Well, what do we have here?"

The voice of Lord Voldemort echoed through the room, making all of the Death Eaters shrink back towards the wall. Pathetic.

The hairless man turned his blood-red eyes towards the kneeling men in front of him; both Malfoy males couldn't look more different. One dressed in a black cloak, the hood hiding his silver-blond hair, the other pushing a stubborn strand out of his eye; one being hunched in on himself, grovelling at the feet of his _master_ , the other glaring at said man, wishing the most terrible things on him.

Truculence had taken a hold of the young wizard, and Lord Voldemort had to admit – it amused him immensely. Ah, youth. The youth still thought they were in control of their lives and would one day change the world for the better. They didn't want to accept the fact that the world's future was bigger than their person, that sacrifices would have to be made, even if that meant giving up their own lives for their master.

"Draco," the snake-like man purred, and motioned the boy to stand. The defiant look did not vanish from his pale eyes, but the Dark Lord was pleased to see worry – and, oh, was that fear? – flicker in the grey orbs. "Welcome."

Draco had to swallow the bile that was slowly accumulating in this mouth. He was too paralysed to really do anything than to stare, breathe and not faint right there on the spot. His heart was beating ten times its usual rate, his breaths were shallow and painful. Voldemort smirked, and Draco knew that he knew.

He knew everything. _No, not everything_ , he thought desperately. An image of a laughing black-haired boy filled his mind. He would be dead if Voldemort found out.

Red left grey as they zoned in on the trembling girl on the floor. "What do we have here. Not brushed off your shoes before entering the room, I see?"

Laughter filled the room as Voldemort moved past the Malfoys and stopped right in front of the terrified Muggle.

"Draco," he said, his eyes not leaving the girl, as a cruel smile found its way onto his thin lips. "Come over here."

Forcing his knees to not give in, he filled his mind with happy thoughts as he made his hesitant way over to where the man who wanted to destroy the whole world stood. It was time to make a decision. He could feel it.

He had always laughed at Harry as he had said that everyone had all of the four Hogwarts houses inside them. Everyone was as brave as a Gryffindor if the time for courage came, everyone was as cunning as a Slytherin when stubbornness was the only thing saving your life, everyone was as smart as a Ravenclaw when they were forced to use their brain, and everyone was as loyal as a Hufflepuff once they had found a reason to stay put and believe. Facing his situation now, he figured it was time to channel some of that lion that is supposed to sit somewhere deep down in his heart.

"Tonight," he said in a calm voice, his arms spread wide as if to welcome each and every one of them, "we are gathered here for the initiation of Draco Malfoy. It is an honour to receive the mark, a sign of your true and unbreakable loyalty to what is right. Therefore, as tradition calls for it, there will be a ritual taking place," he paused, and looked from one Death Eater to the other. Draco had never understood why he preferred them being masked and thus unrecognisable.

"Your task, Draco, is obvious. We have a guest tonight, as you have already seen. Welcome her. Welcome her to your home."

All eyes turned to him as wands were pulled out of robes and gripped tightly. This wasn't a voluntary action. They would make him torture the poor girl if he refused, but he had reached a point at which he simply didn't care anymore. Anything was better than being one of _his_ brainless followers.

So, taking a deep breath, he slowly reached inside his own cloak. The Muggle flinched at the same moment as his fingers touched the smooth surface of the wood. It felt like ages. His fingers wrapped securely around the thin handle, his arm moving backwards, pulling the magical item out with it. Lucius scurried to the wall to his left, Voldemort was waiting on his right. His eyes never left the bleeding girl on the floor, who was once again pleading mercy, this time vocally.

"Stuff it, filth," Lucius hissed, and shot a cutting curse straight at her face. The jinx cut into her skin, causing her to yelp in pain. The other brainless morons chuckled, amused at the show they were getting.

Voldemort did not react whatsoever. His red eyes were watching Draco closely, his dark-tinged magic sending spiky tendrils into the blond's thoughts, looking for unguarded thoughts.

He took a deep breath and strengthened his mental walls. Voldemort frowned, obviously displeased. Draco was sure that Lucius would get into a lot of trouble once this was over, since he wouldn't be there anymore to take all the blame. Hiding thoughts from their master was a huge act of disobedience, which was usually dealt with through torture.

"No."

Silence filled the room. The hand holding his wand was oddly stable. His breathing was calm. His heart on the other hand was racing, and he was starting to feel slightly faint.

"What was that?"

The whispered question crept out of Lucius' corner, who came out of his shocked state and ripped his mask off his face. His expression was murderous. "What did you just say?"

"I won't do it."

"Lucius, I better not be hearing this," Voldemort hissed as his eyes narrowed dangerously.

The older Malfoy looked to his master, his eyes wide with panic. "I assure you, my Lord, that this is a misunderstanding. Draco is merely nervous about what will happen..."

"He should not be nervous, my dear sniffling servant. He should embrace the opportunity instead of acting like a filthy blood traitor."

"That he is not, my Lord. I assure you he will not disappoint you another time."

A hand grabbed his upper arm, fingers digging painfully into his biceps. "Do it, Draco, or so help me Morgana..."

"I said I will neither torture nor kill this defenceless girl."

His back straight, his eyes still looked into unbelieving brown ones, he prepared for the pain that was about to come. He would never be able to get lost in the bright emerald ever again, he thought, depressed, as he once again made peace with the fact that Harry knew that he loved him with his everything.

He would not become a Death Eater! Over his dead body!

" _Crucio!_ "

*~*Impedimenta*~*

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

His arm pulsed painfully as small drops of blood hit the polished wooden floor.

It's been about half an hour, maybe slightly longer, since Lucius had thrown Draco back into his room, pushing him to the ground. With a last nasty sneer, he had slammed the door shut, sealing it with multiple charms to make sure he would not get out of this posh prison. He didn't even have his wand on him. He wouldn't be able to leave even if he tried.

Draco groaned softly, and pressed the golden satin pillow he had grabbed off of the couch onto his arm.

He couldn't believe that he was still alive. Trembling all over and still gasping in pain, but breathing nonetheless. Not many people could say that once they'd disrespected the Dark Lord.

A satisfied, yet weak smirk crept onto his pale face. His eye lids were heavy and he was having difficulties to stay upright. Maybe he should lie down. That might help with the dizziness.

He didn't know how long he was lying there on the chilly floor, but the dizziness did not go away; quite the contrary. The whole room had started to spin around him, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut in order to not vomit right onto the fine mahogany. His arm was pulsating painfully, and he figured that the blood had already soaked through the pillow. That had to be a first! Not being killed by the Dark Lord or his goons, but bleeding to death because of a stupid wound. If he weren't nearly unconscious and lucid enough, he would've found a certain irony in there.

He had never witnessed this kind of punishment before. Usually, those who refused to join _his_ ranks were killed almost immediately. No-one survived more than ten minutes after the refusal. What was so different about him that they let him live?

Well, if he was completely honest with himself, he assumed that he might not stay alive much longer since one needed skin and most of the flesh to keep blood from pouring out of the body, right? You'd need skin at least. That's what kept unwelcome things out and essential stuff in.

He slowly lifted his right hand and rubbed it over his face. He couldn't focus anymore. He couldn't _think_. His thoughts were muddled and confused, weaving into each other, without a start or an end.

His heart was beating too fast, and it was slowly getting difficult to get enough air into his lungs. The room was too stuffy, too hot.

Groaning loudly as another wave of pain hit him, he tried to push himself to his knees. He refused to suffocate in his own damn room! He just had to reach the window and everything would be fine. Someone would see him and he would once again be able to breathe and get some order into his thoughts.

On his slow and painful way there, he had to accept the fact that that was not about to happen as white spots pushed themselves into his vision, closing in on him, until he collapsed in a bloody heap on the polished mahogany floor his mother loved so much.

*~*Impedimenta*~*

He couldn't stop pacing back and forth. He hadn't heard anything from Draco in a week, and that was an awfully long time for someone who loved writing letters.

He pushed his hands through his disastrous hair and sneaked another gaze out of the window. It was looking over a street framed by big trees. On sunny days it was a beautiful view, but with the rain that was pouring out of the sky, it was nothing less but creepy and looked as if it was picked right out of a horror film.

What took them so long?

Lightning illuminated the street outside. Three people stood in the middle of the road, all hidden under oversized hoods and dark cloaks. Thunder rolled overhead as they quickly made their way over to the front door.

Harry smiled, relieved, and hurried through the room. He could hear the front door close shut as he reached the top of the staircase. Screeches that he was by now used to filled the halls as he raced down the stairs and nearly collided with one of the hooded figures, who caught him in time to prevent a painful collision.

An amused chuckle greeted him as the man raised his hand and pushed his hood out of his face. His greying hair was slightly rumpled, but his smile was warm, if a bit tense.

"Hello, Harry," Remus said and quickly gave him a one-armed hug. Harry peeked over his shoulder to see Ron and Hermione take off their cloaks and shake out there damp hair.

"What took you so long?" he asked, but Remus ignored him and walked past him towards the still screaming portrait. With practiced motions, he pulled the curtains shut and motioned the three younger wizards to follow him into the kitchen.

"Kingsley is calling the Order together, but it's difficult to get enough people to join this mission," Remus' voice filled the room as soon as he had stepped over the threshold. He walked over to the table and leaned against it, turning towards his surrogate godson and his friends. He had an apologetic smile on his face.

"Because they think he's a Death Eater," the black-haired wizard said bluntly, staring at the man in front of him, who sighed and nodded slightly. Harry groaned. "They can't be serious! He's not one of Voldemort's followers! He doesn't want to follow him."

"You know that, Harry, and we do as well, but most of the Order's still under the impression that once you've changed sides, you won't make up your mind. At least not fully."

"And what about Snape?" Harry exclaimed. An angry blush rose on his cheeks. "He has changed sides. Why can't Draco do the same?"

"You don't have to ask me that question, Harry, because I absolutely agree with you. In fact, Kingsley made use of the exact same fact, but not many seemed to care. I'm sorry."

The young wizard glared at the werewolf for a few seconds before huffing and leaving the room. He didn't care whether he'd get help. He'd go and get Draco, and if he died trying then the Order would maybe try and change their views on some points because they were just a bunch of prejudiced idiots, who couldn't look past the obvious.

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione's hurried steps echoed through the hallway as Harry reached the wardrobe. "You can't go there alone!"

"Oh, yeah? Watch me!" Angrily, he ripped his cloak off of the hook and stormed further upstairs to retrieve his Invisibility Cloak. He didn't know what he would have to face, but he had grown accustomed to having his trusty heirloom with him. It gave him courage and strength, both of which he dearly needed right now.

"Harry, please, just let us think this through beforehand!" Hermione said desperately, her hands wringing nervously as she watched Harry hurry through his bedroom and grab his father's cloak. "I'm sure we'll find a solution that is perfectly safe."

"No offence, Hermione, but we don't have time for brainstorming right now," Harry grit out and forced himself to not scowl at his best friend. "I know you're trying to help, but this really isn't helping. I haven't heard anything from him in ages. The last time I saw him he acted as if it would be the last time I would ever see him. He's in danger, Hermione. I just know it. I can feel it. I know this isn't safe and I know that the chances of us getting hurt or worse are very high, but I cannot leave him on his own like this! I love him!"

The bushy-haired witch looked at Harry for some painfully long seconds. Her best friend had hectic red spots that were colouring his cheeks, his eyes were wide and desperate, and the hand that wasn't clutching the cloak as if his life depended on it – which was very likely – clenched and unclenched in a nervous manner.

He would go even without her help. She knew him. She had grown up by his side, had gotten to know how he ticked and how he acted. The only difference between her staying or her going would be his chance of survival. She didn't have a choice. She never did. But she didn't care. She wouldn't risk her brother's life over anything. Even if that meant sneaking into Malfoy Manor. But, hey – it wasn't as if they hadn't done that before, right?

"Alright," she grabbed his free hand and pulled him out of the room and down the stairs. Ron was already waiting for them, both her and his cloak in his hands. "What's the plan?"

*~*Impedimenta*~*

Hurried footsteps carried them into the dark shadows of the woods near the mansion. The massive building loomed over them, making them feel threatened and isolated. The weather didn't help much either.

Ron's teeth chattered as they sat huddled behind a big tree, peeking around its trunk. Brown eyes searched the grounds, blue eyes frowned at the muddy puddle they were crouching in and green eyes were fixed on one set one dark windows. Draco's chambers.

"The lights aren't on," his voice could barely be heard over the rolling thunder. "What if we're too late?"

Hermione scoffed and forced the dark-haired wizard to turn around. He looked completely lost, so unlike usual. "We're not too late. Now listen to me, Harry. We will march in there. Well, you will. Underneath your cloak. Ron and I will create a diversion. Didn't Draco once say that his father held peacocks? We'll think of something. Once everyone is busy trying to figure out what's going on, you sneak up the stairs and into Draco's rooms. Once you're in there, you get him out and we'll apparate back to Grimmauld Place."

Ron stared at her as if she had lost her mind, his mouth hanging slightly open. "That was the worst plan I've ever heard you come up with, 'Mione."

"Well, do you have a better one?" Hermione snapped, ignoring Harry's nervous fidgeting. "We have to get him out of there _now_. Preferably _before_ it's too late!"

Ron didn't look happy, but didn't say anything else to contradict her. He looked towards Harry and nodded, proving his absolute and blind trust in his friends. "You ready?"

Harry took a deep breath and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. His thoughts were whirling through his head. He had to focus! Why was he so scared? He fought bloody Voldemort and lived to tell the tale, for Merlin's sake! Multiple times! He wasn't one who worried about what could happen! He was someone who stormed into the situation at hand and improvised!

Warm hands grabbed his trembling ones. His head jerked up and he saw brown eyes look at him encouragingly. Hermione smiled. "Everything will be alright," she said, her eyes never leaving his frightened ones. "You're not alone."

*~*Impedimenta*~*

The house was quiet. Eerily quiet.

Harry could not even hear the thunder that was raging on outside. Thick stone walls were hiding him from the power of nature. House elves that were usually hurrying around, waving cleaning rags or carrying tea trays were nowhere to be seen. Even the portraits that were usually eager to comment on whoever entered the main hall were quiet.

The raven-haired wizard felt a shudder run down his spine as he moved towards the grand staircase leading to the upper floor, careful to not let the cloak ride up over his shoes. The portraits might be silent, but they still had eyes and – no doubt – strong voices.

His footsteps were muffled by the carpeted floor as he started looking for Draco's rooms. He knew from what the blond had told him that they were on the first floor, in the East Wing. He sincerely hoped that that was where he was at the moment, because he had absolutely no idea where East would be. He'd never been good at remembering how one could find out the cardinal points.

The floor was covered in dark, polished wood, one huge, dark grey carpet lying in the middle of the wide hallway. Family portraits were decorating the also wooden walls, trying desperately, but failing spectacularly, to give this part of the mansion a homely feel to it. Guarded expressions, stiff postures and dull eyes did not exactly scream, 'welcome.'

He tried not to think about what was happening to Draco at this moment as he carefully pressed his ear against doors and listened to the slightest noise that might tell him what was behind each door. He forced himself to keep from thinking that he was too late, that he had waited too long to come and find him.

He had wanted to respect Draco's wish to not come after him as he needed to do what his family asked of him. He had not been happy about it – quite the contrary in fact – but he had respected that wish. He would have wanted Draco away from the bull's eye as well if he had had the opportunity to tell him to stay far away from the Ministry of Magic and their Department of Mysteries or whatever places where he had fought for his life. He wouldn't want his other half in danger, and he knew that Draco found comfort in the knowledge that Harry was far away. Or so he thought...

A squeaking sound pulled him out of his reveries and made him freeze where he had been leaning against one of the heavy oak doors.

A house elf, dressed in dirty rags, came shuffling through the door at the very end of the long hallway. It was carrying a bucket and a piece of cloth, muttering softly to itself.

Harry held his breath as the small elf moved past him.

"Tibby bad, Tibby not to disrespect Master. Tibby listen to Master and do what he say. Tibby be a good elf. Tibby not go to young Master, no, Tibby listen to Master and clean the tea room before Master wants tea. Tibby good elf. Tibby good," the muttered words faded into a soft murmur as the distressed elf hurried around the corner and disappeared.

Harry exhaled softly as something close to relief flooded him. He was on the right floor, it seemed. At least one positive thing was happening to him tonight! He just hoped that Hermione and Ron's distraction managed to hold Malfoy senior and his goons away for long enough, so that he could get to the blond safely and unnoticed. Thinking back to his friend's explanation of her brilliant plan, though, he somehow doubted that Lucius Malfoy would be kept away from his son's rooms for long. He had to hurry.

Tucking the Invisibility Cloak tightly around himself, Harry sneaked down the hallway, pausing every now and then to listen for footsteps that didn't belong to him. He couldn't hear a sound next to his shallow breathing and his heart that was thumping desperately in his ribcage. Judging by the silence, he was alone on this floor.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, though. Draco would have sent him a letter by now, telling him that he was alive, that he didn't need to worry. Not sending a letter would lead to Harry coming to bad conclusions; he knew that all too well. So why was he not hearing him? He could think of a couple of options; one less welcome than the other. Either, he was on an entirely different storey and the elf had not meant Draco at all, the blond was busy and didn't feel the need to myke any noises - he liked that option the most - or the young Malfoy heir was unable to make a sound, maybe unconscious. He didn't want to think about the other possibility. If his other half was unconscious, he needed him to _finally stop being a coward and start opening doors, damn it!_

Taking a deep breath, Harry checked whether he really was on his own in the deserted hallway and lifted his cloak off of his left hand, his right reaching for his wand. His trembling fingers curled around the cold metal of the doorknob and twisted.

The door swung open silently, revealing a posh room, decorated in materials that he had never even seen before. The walls were on a dark grey colour, similar to the tone the long carpet in the hallway had. Heavy curtains covered most of the ceiling-high windows, dunking the room into an even darker light. A group of plush couches and chairs in light blue stood in one corner, the fireplace next to them was cold.

Cautiously, as to not make any sound, Harry pulled the door shut, twisting the doorknob in the last second to keep it from falling shut and possibly alerting any house elves. Trying to calm his nerves, he hurried further down the hallway to the next door. He pushed it open, only to find a relatively small room filled with bookshelves that reached to just underneath the ceiling. A desperate huff escaped him, and he moved to the next door.

Door after door he opened, without finding anything than possible guest rooms, studies, game rooms and libraries. Why a family of three needed so many libraries was beyond him.

Harry was close to losing hope. He couldn't find him. What if he had already been in his room but hadn't recognised it because the person living in it wasn't there? He had never been in Draco's rooms, he merely knew about where they were. Not even that he was one hundred percent sure of.

He had to stay calm and think. It didn't do him any good if he went and started to get panicked. He had one room left, just about three metres ahead of him, and if that one wasn't the one he was looking for either, then he'd just turn around and search the whole freaking mansion! He was not giving up or leaving without Draco!

He squeezed his eyes shut shortly before ruffling his hair and marching to the last door on his right. He twisted the handle, pushed against the wood and froze. There, just a few metres in front of him on the floor lay Draco Malfoy. His blond hair unkempt and loosely hanging around his pale face, one arm outstretched, the other cradled against his chest. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly apart. His alabaster cheek rested in what looked like a drying patch of blood.

A shocked gasp escaped Harry before he could bite it back. Not caring whether anyone would find him anymore, he threw the door shut behind him, quickly sending a locking charm in its general direction. His cloak lay on the floor, entirely forgotten, as he rushed forward and fell onto his knees next to the person that meant the world to him.

"Draco!" his voice was trembling violently, as he grabbed the blond's shoulder and rolled him onto his back. Green eyes widened drastically as they took in the sight that was his boyfriend.

Blood covered most of the front of his dark robes, which made his already bloodless skin look even paler. He looked dead. The only calming thing was the shallow, huffed breaths and the moving chest, as it raised up and down slightly as it painfully took in oxygen.

"Draco, open your eyes. Please, it's me. Harry. I'm here now, love! Everything will be okay. You'll see," his muttered words fell on deaf ears as the first desperate tear dropped into blond hair. "Don't do this to me!"

Grey eyes fluttered open and stared into glowing green ones.

Draco's lips twitched into a weak smile. He was in heaven. His suffering had had an end after all, and he was in his personal paradise. But why did every single breath hurt as if his entire being was on fire? A painful groan escaped his lips. Everything hurt. His bones were feeling as if they were shattered in tiny, sharp pieces that were digging their way into his organs, tissues and muscles. He couldn't breathe. Every breath he took burned down his dry thought, all the way into his lungs where the heat spread. He tried to move, but a blissfully cool hand held him down.

"Don't move too much, love. You're injured," the voice said worriedly, as green eyes focused on his ruined left arm.

"Harry?"

"Shh, I'm here," his boyfriend said calmingly and gently brushed the sweaty hair out of his thin face. "I'm gonna get you out of here, Draco. Ron and Hermione are waiting outside. We'll get you out of here."

"No," the blond moaned and squeezed his eyes shut. It was too dangerous! He didn't want them here, especially not him. He could get hurt, or worse killed, and all because of him! He wasn't worth it! Harry had to get out of here and leave as quickly as possible!

"I will do no such thing without you and now shut up and let me think," the beautiful voice of his lover hissed as he muttered the words, "dangerous" and "killed", but the raven-haired boy didn't listen.

Harry rushed over to Draco's humongous bed, shot a cutting hex towards the satin bedding and ripped long pieces of cloth out of it, ignoring Draco's pleas to abandon him and get himself to safety. The blond was a bloody fool if he thought he would listen.

"We have to get you out of here," Harry muttered as he wrapped the expensive material around the blond's bloody arm. "Is there a quick way out of here that doesn't include the main entrance hall?"

Draco wheezed as he inhaled painfully. "No," Harry had to lean down in order to catch the whispered word. "They would take too long and are too dangerous."

"The window it is, then," Harry sighed and jogged over to the ceiling-high window that was framed by two smaller ones. Not seeing a handle to open the big one, Harry trained his wand onto the glass and vanished it.

"I'll levitate you out. Once you've reached the ground, I'll follow you. We'll get you out of here safely. I promise."

Just as he hushed Draco, who again wanted him to get out as quickly as possible and not to worry about him, he heard hurried footsteps outside the room. Voices that he hadn't noticed before quickly came nearer.

Harry cursed and hurried towards the door to pick up his cloak. Raising his wand, he layered charm over charm onto the old wood of the door, hoping against all hope that it would buy them time.

"He's in here," the voice of Lucius Malfoy called right outside their room. Draco whimpered.

Harry jumped into action. Not thinking twice, he waved his wand and silently charmed his boyfriend into the air. He threw his invisibility cloak over his body and pushed him out of the ruined window. Fists banged against the door, the light of curses shining through the slid between its wood and the floor.

He ran after the invisible form of the blond and aimed his wand to the spot he assumed his body to be. Muttering the counter charm, he slowly lowered Draco and let him come to rest on a soft patch of grass underneath the window. He hoped that the rogue peacocks running around on the ground didn't step on the blond, but to blow the cloak off of the injured boy could very well mean his death.

A ear-splitting bang ripped Harry out of his concentration. He whipped around and stared at the three men standing in the doorway, the destroyed door blown off its hinges. Evil grins spread over their faces as the blond man in the front raised his wand. Harry, not wasting precious seconds to think, acted purely on instinct as he yelled the first hex that came to mind, at the exact same moment as Lucius Malfoy's cold voice filled the room.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

 _"Impedimenta!"_

Harry jumped to the left, crashing into a velvet, green armchair as the sizzling curse shot mere inches past him. A sharp pain shot through his side, but he didn't hold still. Quickly picking himself up off the floor, he escaped another bright green curse that had been aimed towards the spot he had just been lying on. His heart hammered in his chest and his arm shot up as if on its own accord and shot a silent stunner straight into the attacker's chest, taking him down as well.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, washing away the pain and fear. Another one of his hexes missed its target and burned a hole into the doorway. A yelled, " _Crucio_ " had him duck out of the way as the forbidden curse flew past him and out the glassless window behind him.

He had to leave. Now. It was too risky taking down Death Eater after Death Eater, possibly attracting new ones to his location.

Casting a strong shield in the hopes that no Unforgivable would be sent his way in the next few seconds, he turned his back towards the doorway, ran to the open window and jumped right out, without casting cushioning charms in the ground first.

Shocked grey eyes that were impossibly wide were the last thing he saw before he felt a blinding pain shoot through his right leg as he hit the ground. A snapping sound told him that his leg had been snapped in two.

"Harry!" Draco gasped and crawled over to where he was lying. "Oh Merlin, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the raven-haired wizard bit out through clenched teeth and looked up as he heard excited voices shouting his name.

"Harry! We've got to get out of here! We barely managed to get rid of them. They've swarmed out and are looking for you," Ron panted and leant down to pick the raven-haired wizard up off the floor.

"Can you walk?" Worried blue eyes shot a glance to his leg that was scraping over the floor, useless.

"I think it's broken," Harry ground out through clenched teeth as he tried to out weight on it carefully. Pain shot through his whole side, pulling a pained gasp out of him.

"Get Draco and get out of here. I'll manage to hold them off for a while until you've brought him to safety."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Hermione snapped and whirled around from where she had been keeping an eye on the mansion. "We have to leave now and with 'we' I mean all of us. Draco," the blond's head jerked up, light grey eyes looked at her tiredly, "can you stand up?"

Slowly, the young Malfoy tried to get to his knees before his arms started trembling violently and gave way.

"Okay, Ron, help Harry, I'll get Draco. We'll meet behind the gates. Go!"

The couple quickly waved their wands in the same fashion, bewitching their friends to float next to them. A freckled hand grabbed Harry's, a tanned one grabbed Draco's, and they started to run. Shouts echoed through the woods on their right, jumping off of the trees and the manor's stone walls. They had found them. Curses of different colour shot past them, some a mere few centimetres away from their limbs as they ran as quickly as they could to where they knew the grounds' gates were located.

Hermione winced as a sharp pain shot through her left side, but she kept running, throwing curses of her own over her shoulder. A pained yell told her that she had at least hit one.

After what felt like an eternity, the gates came into view. Harry's leg gave an uncomfortable twinge as a curse shot right past it, heating up the air around it with an aggressive fizzle. Raising his wand arm, he shot multiple stunners and cutting curses at their attackers in quick succession, taking down three who had run directly into the curses.

"Is it long still?" he shouted over the explosions and yelled incantations.

"About one hundred metres! _Incendio!"_ Ron yelled, quickly followed by a pained scream as one Death Eater lit up in flames, involuntarily taking two others down with him.

Harry turned his head on the invisible stretch to look over to his boyfriend. The blond had his eyes closed and his breaths were too quick and shallow. The improvised satin bandage around his arm was blood red. They needed to hurry.

As they passed the gates, he did not have enough time to allow himself to feel relief as the cool breeze of protection spells washed over him, just before he was whisked away into darkness.

*~*Impedimenta*~*

Pain was the first thing he noticed when his brain caught up with his surroundings. It wasn't the type of sharp pain you had when you cut yourself with a knife or the dull ache that was caused by knocking your knee. It was a weird mixture of these two kinds; a dull, everlasting ache that felt as if his bones were on fire. He couldn't specify its origin, as it felt like it came from within, directly from his blood, being spread through his veins by his steady heartbeat.

A soft groan escaped him as he tried to open his eyes. The room was dark, which made it impossible for him to see where he was. The only sounds he could hear were his lungs expanding painfully just before pushing the air back out, accompanied by an unhealthy wheezing sound, and soft huffing noises that he only knew too well.

He forced himself to turn his head to his right slowly. The motion made his head spin and he had to inhale deeply to not vomit all over the young man sitting hunched in an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair at his bed side. Raven hair was sticking out at unnatural angles, clumping together and making it look anything but its usually shiny nature. A small strand of the soft texture hung into closed eyes, lashes fanned over pale cheeks.

Draco's lips twitched slightly as a smile tried to creep onto his face. Without thinking, his brain gave his left arm the command to rise off the cool blanket, lift over the unconscious wizard next to him and run his fingers through his messy hair, but a sharp jab of intense pain made him gasp in shock and immediately regret his decision to move. He winced as his lover twitched and slowly turned his head to look at the sheepishly smiling pureblood.

"Draco," he exclaimed, and was immediately shushed by the blond who kept shooting fearful looks towards the door of the medical ward that he was currently resting in. "You're awake," his voice now barely louder than a whisper.

"How are you feeling?"

"Why did you come?" The softly asked question echoed through the deadly silent room, jumping off of the cold stone walls, assaulting the two people currently staring at each other; silver eyes emotionless, emerald ones unbelieving.

"What?"

"You heard my question, Harry. Why did you come back when I specifically told you not to?"

Harry gaped at the man sitting on the bed in front of him; his aristocratic features smooth, too smooth to be honest. He knew what the blond was doing; he had seen him do it multiple times before, more often than he could have counted, and he couldn't help but feel disappointed that he apparently still felt the need to shut him out.

"I couldn't have left you on your own, Draco, and you know that," the raven-haired wizard forced his voice to not tremble. His heart was beating faster than usual, thumping violently against his rib cage, threatening to burst out of its protective shell, right into the lap of the one and only who could destroy it with a simple flick of his wrist. "I would never have left you. I told you I would stay by your side, no matter what."

Draco swallowed past tears that were threatening to tumble out of his eyes. _No!_ He would not show that kind of vulnerability! If Harry saw him like this, his damned hero instinct would kick in and he'd feel obligated to save him like he always did. That's his thing – saving people; no matter how hopeless the situation was. Harry was too stubborn for his own good. If he'd have his way, he'd ruin his whole life just to save another, and that was what he was currently doing. If Draco allowed the Potter heir to stay, he'd seal the horrible fate looming over him. Voldemort would come after him and end what he had started. His own father would come and see to him dying of his own hand, and he would _not_ , under any circumstances, allow Harry of all people to stick by him and die just like he would.

He hadn't been strong enough to choose when he should have, but he sure as hell would be strong enough to choose when he needed to, and that moment was now!

"Draco, shut up."

The blond jumped slightly as the surprisingly strict voice hit his eardrums. He turned his head and stared at the anything but amused-looking saviour of the wizarding world, gobsmacked.

Blinking, confused, Draco took a deep breath to remark that he hadn't even said anything when a pair of soft lips took every bit of left-over oxygen out of his system, kissing him into unconsciousness. The slightly chapped lips moved against his, kissing him softly, lovingly, yet with a hidden strength and desperation that Draco did not dare to pull back, as he cautiously lifted his right arm and pushed his fingers into that soft, tangled mess the other called hair.

He didn't know how long they stayed like this, kissing as if their lives depended on it – maybe they did – but as Harry finally pulled away, his eyes were anything but gentle. He glared at the blond and the Malfoy heir could literally see smoke come off of the man who had just taken his breath away.

"Harry?" he asked worriedly, his hand still suspended in air, uncertain of what to hold onto.

"No, Draco, you listen to me now."

The injured wizard gulped, his hand limply falling onto the cold bed sheets.

"I know what you're trying to do. I know you want to _protect_ me," the fuming man scoffed and pushed out of his chair. He had too much energy flowing through his system right now. He needed to calm down somewhat before he completely lost whatever was left of his control on his magic.

He positioned himself at the foot of his lover's bed, unable to touch any part of him but perfectly able to look him in the eyes, to keep himself grounded. "You don't need to protect me. I don't _want_ you to protect me. What I want and need is your trust. I need you to trust my ability to keep myself safe and I need you to put all of your energy into that trust and work together with me! I know the Death Eaters are after you. I know Voldemort is after you," he said in a low, controlled voice and pointed at his bandaged inner arm.

Draco frowned at it and put his right hand over the covered wound. A dull pain told him that the gash wasn't healed yet, meaning that it would probably never completely heal either.

"Whatever they did to your arm," Draco's eyes trailed back to Harry who was once again seated right next to him, looking worriedly at his appendix, "was to serve as a kind of warning. Voldemort always had a thing for drama."

The blond's lip twitched slightly, amused.

"Do you know how they did that to you?" Deep green eyes studied him closely as the Malfoy heir swallowed.

Slowly, he shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered, his silver eyes leaving the loving embrace of the emerald ones looking at him. "I was unconscious."

Harry nodded, thoughtful. "Madam Pomfrey said that it's dark magic."

Draco gulped. He had figured as much since the wound had not healed fully yet, so if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't that surprised.

"You lost a lot of blood," the blond's head jerked up and he looked at Harry whose eyes were focused on the white bedding that covered Draco's lower body. "The wound got infected since it went untreated for so long. I nearly lost you." His voice cracked towards the ends, not louder than a whisper.

Draco reached his right hand out to Harry's trembling ones as he heard the unmistakable sound of a sniffle. The black-haired wizard intertwined their fingers and ran his thumb over the soft, pale skin of his lover's hand. A sad smile graced his features as he met the blond's loving gaze.

"Madam Pomfrey managed to close the wound as best as possible and to keep the magic from spreading. She said you might feel a lingering pain, but that should be over in a couple of days once your magic has managed to get rid of the polluted traces of Voldemort's or whoever did this to you."

Silence followed afterwards, filling the medical ward completely. The only sound Draco could hear were the soft airy breaths of both men in the room, as well as his own heart beat as it continued to beat quicker than normally. He blamed the raven head, who had started to play with his fingers. It looked so innocent, but the slight smirk on his handsome face told Draco that Harry knew _exactly_ what he was doing. _Git_.

"How did you get me out of there?" he asked after a couple of minutes of trying to breathe calmly and evenly, and failing spectacularly.

"Ron and Hermione helped."

"The Weasel and Granger? Really?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at him but didn't say anything.

"Where are they?"

Draco frowned as Harry hesitated slightly, not fully knowing how to answer that question. "What happened, Harry?"

"Nothing!" he exclaimed a bit too quickly. Draco raised his eyebrows sceptically, waiting for the common sense of his opposite to kick in. "Well, not nothing, but everything is fine now. They are fine, I mean. Well..."

"Potter, just spit it out," Draco drawled, earning a flushed grin from his former school enemy.

"Hermione got hurt when we were getting you out of there," he said and looked up at the wide grey eyes that were staring at him as if he had lost his mind.

" _Nothing_ happened, huh? Well, that doesn't sound like nothing to me, it doesn't!" His voice sounded slightly hysterical as he gaped at his boyfriend with so much disbelief that he thought his eyes might pop out at any second now.

"She's fine!" Harry hurried to say and pushed a wound-up Draco Malfoy back into his pillows. "She's completely fine now. She was hit with a cutting curse. Nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't fit. She's on bed rest for the next day, but after that she'll be back to her usual cheery self, I promise."

"And you? You are alright?" Draco asked softly as he searched every free spot of skin, every movement, every facial expression that could convince him of the opposite.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Nothing happened to you?" he asked, still mildly sceptical that the bookworm got hurt but Mister _I-run-into-every-fight-without-so-much-of-a-second-thought_ Potter did not.

"Well..."

Draco groaned and pushed his right hand through his messy bed hair. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Harry exclaimed, looking a mix of indignant and sheepish. " _IbrokemyanklewhenIjumpedoutofyourwindowbutit'shealednowandit'snotabigdealanyway._ "

Draco blinked at the blushing wizard and took a deep breath. "I didn't quite catch that," he deadpanned and waited for Harry to get his Gryffindor courage back because that he would need if he had dared to get himself hurt and tried to wave it off as something not worth mentioning.

Harry took a calming breath and smiled charmingly at his boyfriend. "I might have kind of broken my ankle when I jumped out of your bedroom window, but Madam Pomfrey healed it, alright. I'm completely fine. See?"

Before Draco could do anything more than let out an embarrassing squeak, his way too stubborn boyfriend stood up and jumped on one leg, making himself look like the buffoon Draco already knew he was.

"See? Everything's alright." Harry smiled and let himself fall back into the uncomfortable-looking wooden chair next to the blond's bed. "Everything that we'll have left of this night is the wound on your arm, and that will hopefully fade with time."

Draco shook his head slowly as the antics of the man who people saw as a war hero, who was currently grinning cheekily at him.

"But hey, at least now we'll have matching scars, right?"

"Just shut up already, Potter."

"I love you too, you git."

* * *

Bloody hell, that was one hell of a one chapter long story, right? _laughs_

I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think!

Until next time - see ya!


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